


What's Real

by Naoshiro



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-17 10:40:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8140949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naoshiro/pseuds/Naoshiro
Summary: Angelo had banked on Corteo staying out of trouble. Corteo wouldn’t have lifted a finger against the Vanettis in fear of his own safety. Corteo would have stayed, making more contraband moonshine. Corteo would have faithfully waited for Angelo to carry out his revenge. But Angelo was wrong about all that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Corteo in this fic be like,
> 
> “If we talk after 12, our convos will get real personal.  
> 12:00am: Lol I can’t sleep  
> 12:01am: I killed a man once”.
> 
> But on a serious note, I don't have a copy of the 91 Days light novel, so I wouldn't know if Corteo had a chance to sort his feelings out about what happened with Fango. I would imagine them talking about it on a night when they both can't sleep, maybe over a bottle of booze. You know, when they're not preoccupied with trying to live happily even for a day, since they'd need to reflect on past events in order to start moving on from them. This fic was supposed to be that, but it took a slightly different turn.
> 
> This is supposed to be set on the night Angelo let Corteo take his bed in Episode 10.

Angelo took a swig of Lawless Heaven. Mentally going through his plans for the next few days made him antsy, and Corteo’s moonshine was as good a nightcap as any.

He glanced over to his bed where Corteo lay on his side, and he hesitated. He knew Corteo was awake.

The worried look in Corteo’s brown eyes that surfaced during every lull in their conversations that day told Angelo that Corteo was still bothered by the recent events. Corteo’s eyes made him easy to read.

He put the bottle down and walked over quietly to the side of his bed. He put his hand on Corteo’s shoulder. He felt Corteo tense a little beneath his touch.

“Angelo…” Corteo whispered, getting up into a sitting position. His voice showed no trace of sleepiness. “What’s wrong?”

Angelo sat on the edge of the bed and opened his mouth, yet no words came forth. He bowed his head and let out a hollow chuckle. He reached for and squeezed Corteo’s hand, and a long pause followed. Neither moved from their spot on Angelo’s bed. Corteo made no motion to reject the hand that had covered his own. Only the faint sound of their breathing filled the otherwise silent room.

 “Sorry,” Angelo finally managed to say. “Couldn’t sleep.”

It was noisy in Angelo’s head. The screaming in his head and visions of the day his family was murdered were the usual. But now it was tinged with images of Corteo, _this_ gentle worrywart that seemed in turmoil over how he was acting, in numerous variations of _dead_. Dead is what Corteo could have been if Ganzo hadn’t stepped in to secure the one bargaining chip that would never fail to sway Angelo.

Angelo had banked on Corteo staying out of trouble. Corteo wouldn’t have lifted a finger against the Vanettis in fear of his own safety. Corteo would have stayed, making more contraband moonshine. Corteo would have faithfully waited for Angelo to carry out his revenge. But Angelo was wrong about all that.

Cerotto had told him of Corteo’s long-standing hatred of the mafia, and he knew now that that was an understatement. Corteo despised the mafia more than Angelo could ever fathom. Corteo must have felt so trapped. Seeking Fango’s help took balls, considering what they’ve been through with him. And Angelo wasn’t in any position to be mad about any of it.

“Me too,” Corteo replied.

Corteo’s voice brought him back to reality. In the moonlight, he could make out Corteo’s furrowed brows and worried lip.

“I’ve been… thinking about Fango, you know? This week’s just been crazy for me. For all of us,” he continued. Angelo, in silence, trained his straw-colored eyes on Corteo’s face and listened with rapt attention. He gave Corteo a small nod, both to urge him to keep talking and to agree with the sentiment.

“I had no choice. Fango was going to get me killed, Angelo.” Corteo looked away, and Angelo wished he hadn’t.

“Better him that’s dead than you,” Angelo said, wanting Corteo to look back at him. Corteo wasn’t the one who should be feeling ashamed. “You did what you had to, to survive.”

“But why doesn’t it feel right?”

At that, Angelo couldn’t suppress a bitter smile. He couldn’t imagine anything more satisfying than Vanetti blood on the streets, while Corteo pondered upon questions of morality. Corteo seemed frightened of what he had become under the threat of death, while Angelo himself seemed equal parts resigned to and repulsed by pretending to be Nero’s faithful dog. This was his life now. Until he seizes the opportunity to end the Vanettis.

“You’re too kind, Corteo,” Angelo said. He kept thinking about how he could have avoided involving Corteo in all of this, futile as it may have been to be on that train of thought. This world of Vanettis and Galassias clearly wasn’t one for Corteo to step into. Of course, he knew it was too late for the both of them. Neither of them could turn back time to undo it all.

Corteo met his eyes and frowned. “I- I don’t think I am. I was an idiot to think that asking for Fango’s help would be foolproof. I didn’t expect that Scusa would’ve gotten a copy of my recipe. Now look at what’s happened to us.”

Angelo felt a lump in his throat. He wrapped himself up in this business. He was in too deep, and Corteo saw that. He was so far gone that Corteo was forced to stain his own hands in a desperate attempt to escape it all. Corteo was just collateral damage.

“I’m sorry,” Corteo said, his voice shaky.

Angelo’s eyes began to sting when he’d heard the crack in Corteo’s voice. He should have been the one apologizing to Corteo. But he was left speechless once again.

All he could do in response was to lift Corteo’s right hand, the one he’d been holding, off the bed and kiss it tenderly. Calloused as Corteo’s hands might have been, he treated the hand he kissed as if it were fragile china.

Even if he’d kissed Nero’s hand the same way, it was Corteo to whom Angelo would really, truly swear fealty to. It didn’t feel like a lie to express devotion to Corteo in this way. This was the most honest he felt he’s acted since they got involved with the Vanettis. This felt so right to Angelo.

When he’d lifted his head to meet Corteo’s eyes, he saw Corteo’s mouth slightly ajar. He felt his tears running down his cheeks, and briefly wondered if Corteo would wipe them away as he had before.

“I should be apologizing to you,” Angelo said. _We’re safe here,_ he’d wanted to say, but that would have been a lie. Instead, after letting out a shaky breath, he said, “I’m just glad you’re here.”

Corteo whispered his name and squeezed his hand back. Corteo shifted his position to fully face Angelo and gripped his shoulder with his free hand. Corteo’s concerned _Hey_ made Angelo choke back a sob.

There was nothing else to be said. Corteo was going to be safe here. Angelo just had to make the call first thing in the morning to give his regards to the Galassias. He only had to finish the job and come back to Corteo alive. That last bit would be difficult, but he had to do it. He wanted to come back for Corteo and, maybe, heal from all of this together. He dared to hope this much. Everything was going to be fine.

Corteo smiled at him, and Angelo knew, at least at that moment, he was allowed to feel vulnerable with him.

If he’d dared to hope about their future, he dared to believe that Corteo would cross a boundary with him.

Angelo knelt before Corteo on the bed and wrapped his arms around Corteo’s neck. He laid his head on Corteo’s shoulder and breathed out slowly when he felt Corteo’s steady grip around his waist.

“Angelo,” Corteo whispered into his ear. Angelo shuddered. He lifted his head and met Corteo’s eyes that continued to gaze at him with a familiar sort of warmth. They both leaned in for a kiss.

What had felt real to Angelo until that point were the bitter flavor of cigarettes, and the fiery kick of Lawless Heaven. Corteo’s mouth tasted vaguely of both, although the kick Angelo got was not from the moonshine but from how needily Corteo had been kissing him back. He liked the idea of Corteo being needy. Corteo deserved all that he asked for, and so much more. Angelo was ready to give him anything he wanted.

He felt Corteo cup the back of his head with one hand to pull him closer, deepening the kiss. Fingers around locks of his hair, Angelo felt a slight tug. He didn’t mind.

Angelo traced a thumb along Corteo’s jaw as they locked lips. He hoped he was doing it right. Corteo didn’t seem eager to stop, so he figured they were both doing just fine. Corteo’s eyes were scrunched shut, but in the rare moments when they’d fluttered open, Angelo could plainly see desire. Soft moans escaped his own mouth whenever they’d both slowed down to catch their breath before resuming. His lips tingled from the pressure and the heat, and he wished Corteo was feeling as good as he was.

When they’d resolved to stop, Angelo felt a wave of exhaustion come over him. He laid down on his bed and watched Corteo cover them both with the bedsheets. Corteo lay facing him, and Angelo reached over to brush a lock of hair off Corteo’s face.

Corteo yawned, and then managed a smile before he swiftly succumbed to sleep. Angelo, too, smiled tiredly, and drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

 

* * *

 

Angelo must have run out of tears the night he and Corteo slept together, because he couldn’t cry now even if he’d wanted to.

Just nights before, he’d felt Corteo’s heartbeat through his thin shirt. Right now, Angelo was sure that it beat no more. His hand would be sticky and red if he’d attempted to check.

Corteo had always been a peaceful sleeper, and that day had been no exception. The only difference was that Corteo would never wake from that point on.

Angelo was at a loss. He planned to come back to Corteo alive. This wasn’t part of the plan.

 _Ganzo,_ Angelo thought. _He called Corteo here._

His chest tightened like his hand around the pistol grip did. This was one sacrifice he didn’t want, but knew he needed.

He was looking forward to seeing Corteo again, and soon.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't write a full-on sex scene for them (even if I wanted to). But kissing is still a very intimate act. I can see them kissing more than I can envision them having sex, but that's just me.


End file.
